Chapter 50
Chapter fifty
Hendrix · Now
Like A Prayer – DIAMANTE
Cole doesn’t kiss.
He devours.
A hand twines in my hair as he slants his head and tangles his tongue with mine. I fist his black shirt. My muscles tremble when I push up higher.
Cole grips my hip, fingers digging into my skin as he guides me backwards.
I whimper, he moans, and those fucking I felt for the first time when I was fourteen tug.
My back slams into the wall.
Heat rolls off him in waves, his vanilla and cinnamon scent wrapping around me. He frames my head with his palms. His chest rises when he pulls away, lips glistening under the flickering lights.
I drag my nails down his top and he shivers.
Curling my fingers around the hem, I peel it off him.
My mouth dries at the expanse of black and grey ink covering him. I knew he was heavily tattooed from his neck down, but knowing and seeing are two very different things.
There isn’t an inch of visible skin that hasn’t been touched by a needle.
And that six-pack…
Fuck me.
I feel his heated stare as I trace him with my eyes.
A silver bar glints from his nipple, and my knees quiver.
I plant my palm on his chest. He curls his fingers around my wrist, his thumb stroking the microphone, and I buckle.
His arm wraps around my back. I lock my legs around his waist when he lifts me, lips crashing to mine. He fists my hair and tilts my head.
Cold wood bites into the fire searing me as he places me on the glossy black grand piano. He steps between my spread legs, his fingers dig into my thighs, and he lifts my hips, dragging me to the edge.
Hot, heavy kisses trail my jaw. I gasp when his dick presses into me. My clit pulses and my heart smashes into my ribcage.
He stares down at me like a man starved.
His fingers play with the loose hem of my T-shirt, his thumb grazing my stomach. My thighs tense. I reach for him, only for him to grab both my wrists in one hand and lower me until I’m flat on my back, arms pinned above my head.
“It’s my turn to touch, Rixie,” he murmurs, his hand splaying over my stomach as he eases my t-shirt upwards.
Air lodges in my lungs and I forget how to breathe.
His tongue swipes his lower lips as he reaches the red lace covering me, and he purrs. He drags his thumb along the band, stroking up and over the cup.
His lip quirks when he tugs it down. “Matching metal, baby?”
Any retort I can think of disappears the second he swipes over the sparkling barbell in my nipple.
Then, he tugs the metal, and every single vein in my body sparks.
I lift my hips, chasing his erection as he rocks against me. He dips his head and flicks my nipple with his tongue before biting down.
I moan, my back arching off the piano lid.
He slides his arm beneath me and flicks the clasp of my bra open.
I tip my chin, nipping at his jaw.
A hand covers my other breast, and honeyed eyes lock on mine as he feels the other piercing. “Double metal?”
“Uh-uh.” I lap at his sweet, salty skin. “But that’s not all.”
His head falls back on a groan.
He drags his hand down chest and over my stomach. He pops the button of my jeans before sinking his fingers inside. He strokes me over my underwear, pressing down until he feels the metal ring in my clit.
“Fuck, Rixie.” He rolls it beneath the pad of his thumb, his breaths laboured. My chest hitches, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. “How are you so fucking perfect?”
I open my mouth on a gasp when he slides my underwear to the side and drives two fingers inside me.
The cold metal of his rings bites into my overheated core. He tugs the ring with his thumb, his fingers curl, and I’m a goner. He plays me expertly, just like he plays the keys of this piano.
Every stroke drags me deeper into the abyss. Stars flicker across my vision, my lungs expand. I chase the climax, following as it reaches a peak, only for it to drop when he pulls his fingers free.
My head smacks against the wood and I groan.
“You really thought I’d give in to you that easily, baby?” He clicks his tongue. “I’ve been missing you for ten years, Rixie Moore. I’m going to savour every fucking second of having you again.”
He drags my jeans down my legs and peels them off, tossing them behind him.
“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this?” His voice is a low rasp as he plants my feet on the fallboard and perches on the stool. “You, spread out on my piano, dripping just for me…”
I whine.
Cole Hayes has always known how to use his voice to draw pleasure from people, but fuck if it has expanded his skills somewhere in the last ten years.
“I wonder, how do you taste at thirty, Rixie?”
He licks his lips as he leans in.
I push up onto my elbows, my chest heavy with each breath as his coasts along my slick pussy. He kisses my thighs, soft, sweet, and not nearly enough to satiate the need coiling inside me.
“Still just as sweet?”
“Why don’t you find out, Rock Star?” I whisper, tangling my fingers in his dark hair as he hovers over me.
My skin vibrates when he chuckles.
Then, everything hushes, the room blurs, and he dives in.
He parts me with his thumbs, his tongue flicking my clit. He doesn’t just taste, he indulges. Every lick, every flick, every nip. He pulls me to the edge, releases me, then pulls again.
My breaths quicken, my pulse thumping. I rock my hips and my feet arch off the wood as he slides three fingers inside of me. His teeth catch my clit ring. He flicks his gaze up, eyes locking with mine when he tugs.
I explode.
My mouth falls open, a moan clawing at my throat.
He doesn’t relent.
His fingers thrust in and out as he stands. With his free hand, he flicks his jeans open and drags them down his thighs.
I throw my head back when he hits my g-spot.
Still riding the high of my orgasm, I quiver, whimpering as he pulls my arse off the piano, tilts my hips, and with a single thrust, fills me right to the hilt.
My back bends as he withdraws himself inch by inch. So fucking slowly. I thrust to meet him, but he doesn’t give me what I need.
Or maybe this is everything I’ve needed for ten years.
He slams back in, and then I feel it.
My eyes snap open as metal presses into my g-spot.
“Yo—” I cry out as he rolls his hips, drawing me to the precipice once again.
He leans down, a hand framing my throat when his lips ghost over mine. “You heard of a magic cross, baby?”
“Fuck.”
He seals our mouths together.
His tongue brushes mine, and he throws me right over the edge when he slams into me. I drag my nails down his back, needing something to cling to as wave after wave of pleasure laps at my body.
I flutter around him, squeezing with every frantic thrust. The piano scrapes along the hardwood, but still he doesn’t stop.
Our kiss is raw and messy as he grabs my hips, hard enough that I know I’ll feel the imprints of his fingers for days to come. He shudders, his back tightening beneath my hands, before he spills inside of me.
Sweat slicks my skin.
He buries his face into my neck, his body trembling above mine. I stroke my fingers up his spine as I try to catch my breath.
He kisses my pulse point, then my jaw, and finally a sweet caress of my lips.
“Rixie, that was…” he trails off as I cup his cheeks.
Everything. “I know.”
I shiver as Cole trails his fingers up my calf.
My clothes are long gone, tossed somewhere in the live room, leaving me only in red lace and Cole’s oversized black sweatshirt. The air is warm, the scent of us lingering through it.
I reposition the guitar when his breath skates my ankle. “You’re distracting me.”
“Good.”
I hear his smile.
His fingers dance over my shin and up to my knee.
I skew a chord when he stills.
Air puffs from him, and I feel him pressing closer. “Is this what I think it is?”
“And what do you think it is?” A soft smile tugs my lips, but I don’t open my eyes.
He traces the root lettering inked into my skin. “Rixie Moore…”
I hum as I shift my hands and change the melody pouring from my Hummingbird. “Yes, Cole Hayes?”
“Are my eyes deceiving me, or do you have a Reckless Abandon tattoo?”
“Do I?”
“You totally have a Reckless Abandon tattoo.” He digs his fingers in and I giggle as he hits a tickle spot. “When did you get it? And why this design? It’s nothing like our logos.”
“Kind of the point, dude.” I chuckle, peeking at him through dipped eyelids as he hovers over.
My heart thunders at the sweet smile lighting his face.
“I didn’t want it to be obvious unless you were looking right at it.
Imagine having to tell someone you’re such a creeper that you have your ex-boyfriends band tattooed on you.
” I clench my teeth and hiss. “Embarrassing, much?”
His laughter vibrates my leg when he kisses the ink. “I like that you’re a creeper.”
“You would, it feeds your ego.”
“You know what else it feeds?” His voice is husky as it caresses my skin.
My stomach clenches and I grin. “Swear to God, if you say your dick.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.” He clicks his tongue. “I was going to say my heart.”
“No you weren’t.”
His grin is nothing less than cheeky as he climbs over me. “No, I definitely wasn’t.”
He eases the guitar from my grip and slides it across the floor, before rolling onto his back and tugging me into his side.
I dance my fingers over his slick skin. My eyes flutter closed as the soft beat of his heart soothes me, and the warm air curls around us.
His lips linger on my forehead, and I kiss his chest.
“You realise we need to talk about things, right?” I whisper.
“Yes, and we will,” he says, a hand sliding into my hair. “But we’ve got all the time in the world to talk about everything. Let’s just play hooky a little while longer.”